


If Chance Were Fate

by calcitrix



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcitrix/pseuds/calcitrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evan rescues a drowning man whose alchemical tattoo design is causing all kinds of problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Chance Were Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Depictions of tattoo work, animal transformations.  
> About time I started posting my work here.

As he turned the last corner the wind caught him with its full strength, straight out of the north and chilled by the Bay. He could have picked a place downtown, but the crowds made his chest tight, and Polarica came highly recommended, despite its location near the canal and industrial waterfront. Evan huddled against the wall and checked the time on his phone. He was a half-hour early, his anxiety making him restless and pushing him out the door as soon as he'd finished dressing. At least it hadn't been a bad walk, despite the cold. 

The weather seemed to have driven everyone else indoors; there was no movement up or down the street. Massive warehouses blocked out what little light from the moon there was, offering a less than even exchange in the form of weak sodium vapor lamps. Evan debated going inside early, but the thought of sitting at a table by himself for thirty minutes while the wait staff wondered if he'd been stood up made him walk to the tiny park at the edge of the canal instead. The waterway was theoretically a creek, the slope of its banks abruptly meeting cement and pavement in a hard edge. He couldn't remember where it originated before it crossed under the Embarcadero Freeway, or even if it continued that far at all. It certainly didn't pass through his neighborhood, a mile uphill. 

Something splashed in the water, drawing Evan's attention from the opposite embankment. It sounded too large to be a pelican or seagull settling down for the night, and most other animal life stuck to the ocean side of the city. He crouched low, trying to get a better look. There were no lights in the park itself to illuminate the black slope and pathetic row of old pilings from a dock that was long gone. Another splash helped narrow his focus, and he swiveled his head, instinct telling him he needed to find the source. Chiding himself for being silly over what was probably nothing, he rested his fingertips on his brow. A pattern of circles and lines glowed briefly on his skin as his eyes Shifted. Suddenly the night was no longer dark, as the Annex to his vision widened his pupils far greater than a human's could and his retinas put to use a rush of light-sensitive proteins. 

Evan could see the struggling figure now, but still wasn't sure if it was human or animal. Whatever it was flailed with stunted limbs and seemed to be covered in thick fur. Then he caught the pale flash of a face and cursed. Some idiot was half-Shifted out there, struggling toward the bank and failing. Before he could second guess his decision, Evan pulled off his shoes and socks and stripped naked, then took a running dive off the bank. When he hit the surface, he tapped his chest just above his heart, where another flare of light was swallowed by the murky water. Within seconds, Evan had the form of a sleek seal. Anyone watching might have noticed the oddly mismatched eyes that he hadn't had time to reverse. But there was nothing for it but to endure the sting of the salt. Evan's seal body powered through the water, and he felt a momentary rush of elation at the feeling. It only took moments to reach the struggling figure, which was no longer breaking the surface of the water, still moving feebly. Evan breathed deep one last time and dove, concentrating on fingers and hands. His front flippers stretched painfully, and his arms reformed, though his hands still had vestiges of webbing and claws as he grabbed the person under the shoulders and heaved upward with a thrust of his rear flippers. 

It was a good thing the person remained half-Shifted; in this form, Evan didn't have had the strength to lift the full weight of a human. As it was, he just barely managed. Swimming without his front flippers made it more awkward, but he kept hold of his burden and made for shore. When the bank took the weight from his arms, Evan slapped a palm over his breastbone, and his re-formed human knees dug into the gravely bottom. He shivered at the sudden cold, dripping wet and lacking both the fur and fat that had made the water seem tepid moments before. On hands and knees still, he moved to kneel next to the person he'd rescued and flipped him over. 

The guy was a wreck; brown fur sprouted from most of his narrow chest and down his stomach. His four limbs were completely out of proportion. Evan guessed he'd gotten stuck either halfway to or halfway from Shifting a sea otter. He checked for wounds, knowing from experience that being bashed in the head in the middle of a Shift was about the only thing that could interrupt the process. But there were no lumps or blood, and the guy seemed uninjured--meaning he'd just made a shit job of it. Another rich asshole who could afford Imprint Design work and didn't have the first clue what to do with it.

Tempting as it was to leave the guy on the bank to deal with his problems himself, Evan knew he couldn't. If the guy Shifted back while unconscious, his human skin would leave him defenseless against the cold and wet. With a sigh, Evan stood and lifted the guy in his arms. Being mostly otter, he weighed about a hundred pounds, give or take, but Evan climbed the bank to his discarded pile of clothing without dropping him. 

Before Evan could set him down, the guy shuddered, and suddenly Evan was trying to hold a six-foot plus naked human. Evan buckled under the weight, but just managed to keep them both from tumbling onto the grass. He laid the guy down as gently as he could, then quickly wrapped him in his own shirt. It wouldn't accomplish much, though, and it left Evan with only his pants against the chill. Already he was shivering violently, fingers stiff as he pulled his socks and shoes back on over wet and muddy feet.

He would call an ambulance and make sure the guy was okay before heading home to shower and change. He stood, pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket and noting the time, surprised to find that the whole ordeal had only taken fifteen minutes. He might even be able to catch his date outside the restaurant and apologize for having to cancel. 

Glancing toward the street, the painful glare of headlights reminded Evan that his vision Annex was still active. He swiped across his forehead with just enough contact to reverse the Shift. Blending forms like that was not something he cared to do, but it couldn't be avoided sometimes. 

The car had stopped at the curb, and the driver's window rolled down to reveal a man about Evan's age. “You okay over there?”

Evan opened his mouth to call back that he had it under control, but just then the guy at his feet shivered again, head to toe. His back arched, and for a brief moment Evan saw his face Shift to something other than a sea otter. Evan blanched; it shouldn't be possible. Someone else must have figured out how to combine Imprint Designs. Or almost figured out how. He forgot about the driver's question completely and knelt again, pulling the shirt open to expose the man's chest. Muttering under his breath, Evan placed his palm on the cold skin. The responding glow revealed the alchemical patterns of the man's Imprint, and Evan saw at once that it was all wrong. It wasn't meant to be a combination of Designs at all. Someone had botched it, and badly. The guy didn't need to sleep it off in a warm hospital bed, he needed his Design fixed before he hurt himself. Or someone else.

“Hey! Do you need help?” 

Evan startled at the voice, and he swung around to face the driver of the car. The car door was still open, and the man stood just a few feet away, looking concerned, his cell phone in his hand. 

Evan debated his options. What he should do was call that ambulance after all and walk away from the whole thing. What he needed to do was to get this guy back to his shop, because he doubted there was much chance of finding anyone else who could fix the damage. None of the city's licensed Imprint Designers would bother this late on a Saturday, or else they would charge more than Evan made in an entire year. And if the guy could afford that, he wouldn't have a sloppily done, half-assed Design on his chest in the first place. They'd probably both get reported to ID Reg to boot, as the authorities would no doubt assume Evan had been involved in what had to be illegal work and not just the rescue of a random stranger.

“We could use a ride,” Evan finally replied. “I don't think he's hurt, but--”

The man on the ground thrashed, throwing off Evan's shirt. Wings started to grow from his shoulder blades before sinking back into the skin. 

“Shit!” Their would-be helper stepped back, his eyes widening with alarm. “What's wrong with his Shift? I've never seen that happen before.”

Evan had, but he wasn't about to admit it. ID work was fiercely regulated, partly so that this kind of thing wouldn't happen, but primarily because it had become a very profitable industry. “I'm not sure,” Evan lied, “but I think I--uh, I know someone who can help.” Evan looked the driver over, wondering if he could trust him. Not that he had much choice with a mile of ground to cover. Of course, he wasn't sure he could trust the man he was trying to help, either. Messes like these were one reason Evan tended to stay away from people. 

“A ride?” The driver looked at his watch and grimaced. “I'd love to help, but I'm supposed to be meeting someone here at eight.” He glanced across the street and looked back with a shrug. “I guess I could leave a note...”

Taking a closer look, Evan saw that the driver was well-dressed in khaki pants and an olive button down under a leather jacket. His brown hair was cropped short, with just a bit of bangs. With a sudden realization, Evan blurted, “Are you Cam?”

The guy blinked and then laughed. “You must be Evan. Guess I don't have to worry about missing my blind date, after all.”

“Oh, man—I'm so sorry. I got here early and walked to the park, and I heard someone out in the water.” Evan reached over and tried fruitlessly to wrap his shirt around the unconscious man again. “He really needs to warm up.” Evan pleaded silently with his eyes, and after the barest pause, Cam shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over. 

“Let's get him in the car,” Cam said, pocketing his cell phone before crouching next to them. Together they managed to get the guy into the back seat of Cam's Camaro, and Evan winced when they dripped water over the leather interior. But all Cam said was,“Looks like you're as cold as he is. I think there's a blanket on the floor.”

Evan slid onto the seat and gratefully wrapped himself up as Cam got behind the wheel. After giving his address, Evan glanced down at the shivering form curled beside him. The guy was skinny; Evan could see his backbone beneath the edge of the jacket. He'd be in even worse shape after being in the water for who knew how long, and the jacket was already damp. With fleeting regret at the loss of warmth, Evan tucked the blanket around the other man instead.

“So, do you rescue people all the time, or is it just a hobby?” Cam joked from the front.

“I try to avoid it as much as possible, actually,” Evan answered through chattering teeth. “Turns out it's a pain in the ass.” Too late, he remembered that Laura had told him Cam was a helicopter pilot for the Coast Guard. Evan felt like an idiot.

Thankfully, Cam seemed to interpret Evan's sarcastic declaration as purposeful humor, and he gave a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, some days it really is a pain in the ass.”

They were silent for the rest of the short drive, and though Cam cranked the heat, it hadn't quite kicked in by the time they pulled up in front of Evan's shop and second floor apartment. Cam took one look at the storefront and turned around in his seat. “So, when you say you know someone who can help this guy...?”

Crap. Evan wasn't thinking straight. Of course it would be obvious.

“Hey, I won't say anything, I promise.” Cam came around to the side, and they wrapped the blanket more securely around the still-unconscious man before carrying him inside, leaving Cam's jacket spread on the seat. Evan managed to unlock the front door one-handed, and led the way around the counter and through the back work room, where a set of stairs led up to his apartment. 

“I didn't think to clean,” Evan apologized on the way up.

Cam grunted as he shifted to get a better grip, then said, “What? You didn't plan on inviting me back after our date?”

Evan felt himself flush. He'd only agreed to the blind date in the first place to get his friend Laura off his back. He had absolutely not intended on bringing Cam home, nor on going home with him. Based on Laura's enthusiastic description, Evan had already guessed that Cam would be too chaotic for him, too energetic, and probably way too social. He kicked the top door open, trying to remember if he'd left the lights on. No, Laura would have done better setting Cam up with someone like--

“Sheppard! Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.” Evan nearly dropped his end of the blanket as John swung the door the rest of the way open. His grin turned to a look of astonishment at the sight of the two men with their makeshift litter. 

“What the hell, Evan? I thought you were on a date.” John backed out of the way while Evan and Cam deposited the man on the couch.

Evan straightened with a hand on the small of his back. “I hereby rescind your rights to my extra set of keys. Why are you here?”

“Your TV is bigger than mine,” John answered absently, moving to stand by the couch. “What happened?”

Cam shrugged when Evan ignored the question to kick his shoes toward the door mat and peel off his damp socks. “Guy fell in the water,” Cam said. “Some trouble Shifting, looks like.”

Evan headed to the open kitchen area, heating water in the microwave while he pulled several canisters out of a cupboard. He had a special blend of tea that should neutralize the alchemical process causing the Shifts long enough for him to fix the Design. At least he hoped it would; he'd never seen one so messed up before.

By the time he was done, Cam and John had introduced themselves to each other and were talking quietly at the table. “You don't need to stay here,” Evan told them as he passed. “You guys should go out.” 

John protested halfheartedly while Evan propped up the man from the canal and tried to get him to drink. His skin felt warmer, which was a good start, but if he kept partially Shifting, eventually it would cause damage to his nerves and tissue.

“I'd feel bad leaving you here,” Cam said, leaning on the counter that defined the kitchen area. “Won't you need help?”

Evan shook his head. “The fewer bodies, the better. I'm not sure what else he might Shift to, and I don't want to have to worry about other people.”

“Okay, but what about you?” 

John stood and joined Cam, saying, “Evan can take care of himself, believe me. He has a million tricks up his sleeve. Best tattoo artist I know.”

Cam raised an eyebrow at that, and Evan felt a momentary pang of regret. Cam seemed like a nice guy, but he was already learning the kinds of things Evan only revealed when he was starting to get serious with someone. Things that had, so far, been the end of the relationship. If Cam had had the whole truth from the start, Evan figured he would have never even agreed to a date in the first place. Maybe he and John would hit it off. It was about time Sheppard settled down with someone. “Seriously, guys—go. I'll be all right.”

“I'll come back and check on you later,” John said, resting his hand on Evan's shoulder. He gave a squeeze and added, “Call if you need anything.”

Evan nodded, but his attention had already returned to the guy on his couch. Every couple of minutes, a facial feature or limb would start to Shift and then reverse just as quickly. Evan had already counted four different animals, which was one more than Evan had ever seen anyone handle. He didn't even hear the door close when the other men left, concentrating to recall the detail of the Design he'd seen in a brief flash back in the park. 

By the time the guy had swallowed most of the tea, Evan thought he knew where to start. It would be easier working in the shop downstairs, but he hadn't thought to dump the guy on the padded work bench when they brought him in. Too late now.

Working quickly, Evan moved his potted plants off the top of the buffet that backed the couch and separated the living room from the space he used as a studio. Hoping the bay windowsill was far enough, he deposited them there and examined the rest of the apartment critically. There wasn't anything he could do about the television mounted to the wall, but the glass canisters on the kitchen counter were potentially in harm's way. He moved those to the opposite counter top and figured it was the best it was going to get.

He checked the man briefly again; the Shifts seemed to have stopped, and Evan finally got a good look at him. He had dark reddish brown hair that was probably lighter when it was dry, a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and shoulders, and he looked like he could use a good meal or five. Evan tucked the blanket around him snugly before heading downstairs to his shop.

Though he wasn't licensed for Imprint Design work, that didn't keep him from doing it. He earned most of his income from regular tattoo work—no alchemy, just pretty pictures. But as far as he was concerned, his ID work was as good as any done in the parlors that charged thousands for something as simple as a vision or speed Annex, and tens of thousands for a full Shift. In fact, his work was probably better, because he didn't have to adhere to the ridiculous regulations that accompanied having a license.

It meant he could experiment. He could improve upon centuries-old Designs or create his own. He could mix his own inks, and didn't have to pay industry-standard rates for the chemicals. Of course, he could only charge a bare fraction of the going rate, but it was the work that called to him more than the money.

Unlocking the middle drawer of his work table, he quickly placed the supplies inside on top and pulled out the false bottom. Underneath lay his ID kit. Deciding it would be better to overcompensate, he bundled everything in his arms and headed back upstairs. 

The kit contained the essentials plus several tools Evan had improvised over the years. He left the equipment on the buffet within easy reach, then dug his phone out of his pocket and added it to the pile. Quickly fitting together tubes and needles, Evan placed everything so that he could reach it without having to look.

That done, he turned up the heat in the apartment and unwrapped the blanket from around the man's torso. He needed to have another look at that Design. In the light of the apartment, Evan could see that the work had been recently done; the skin was red and irritated, and a faint outline remained from where the needles had injected the Hermetic ink. That went beyond sloppy; a proper Design would disappear into the skin the moment the last line was complete, and only be visible when the bearer activated a Shift.

Evan placed his fingers over the flat space under the man's collarbone and the Design lit up long enough for him to be sure he had it right in his head. He chewed his lip for a moment, contemplating the best way to go about it. He'd been right about the number of mottled together Imprints; he couldn't remove the traces of unwanted ones, so he'd have to make all four complete. The guy would have a hell of a time learning to control his Shifts. Most people stuck to simple Annexes, which affected only one part of the body at a time, no matter how many a person had done. Full-body Shifts required both a working knowledge of the animal species and the concentration to control an entirely new set of limbs and senses. One was usually more than enough for anyone.

Of course, Evan had three, as well as several Annexes, but he considered himself a special case. The knowledge was what made most guys balk; a few Annexes were practically nouveau these days, and plenty of full Shift Designs were passed down within families that could afford it. Evan's combination was both unorthodox and extreme, the equivalent of the Tattooed Lizard Man at a freak show.

Evan closed his eyes, rearranging the badly done Design in his head until he was satisfied with it. If he worked each aspect into something resembling a compass, he ought to be able to separate them enough to be activated individually. He'd need to start with the sea otter, since that was the form least likely to give him trouble later.

Evan's final preparation was to strip off his slightly damp jeans and underwear, since he'd need to be free of restrictions the moment he was done. He apologized silently and pulled back the rest of the blanket, settling gingerly on the man's hips, his right knee digging into the space between the couch cushions and his kit within arm's reach. 

Despite the circumstances, Evan lost himself in the work. Imprint Design was a thing of beauty, the way the mathematical curves worked together with the chemicals in the ink to transform living tissue. He hadn't had a challenge like this in a long time, and he relished the idea of taking something broken and making all of its parts work the way they should.

When the first drops of blood surfaced beneath his needles, Evan used a gloved finger to smear the blood in a circle over the center of the original Design. He repeated the process again when he finished the top portion—north on this stylized compass rose, and the sea otter—and paused to change inks. He'd used lapis lazuli and malachite tinted Hermetic inks for the otter; the eagle whose wings had jutted briefly from the man's back would need zinc and ochre, and would be given the position of west. He drew a third layer of blood over the center as he worked, and then a fourth. Cobalt and sanguine and blood, and then azurite and plain carbon, and the last two layers of blood. 

Done, the Design flashed all at once in a brilliant luminescence of color, brighter than it ever would again, then dimmed until it was gone, taking with it the the ghost lines of the original. Evan quickly set down the tattoo gun and switched off the small air compressor, then stripped his gloves and threw them on the buffet table. Any second now...

Like a partial after-image, the top quarter of the Design flared and faded. Evan lifted his weight to his knees as the Shift to sea otter halved the size of the form beneath him. Dark eyes blinked open and widened with fear.

“You're okay now,” Evan soothed, “You got a bad Design, buddy, but I fixed it up for you.” In Evan's experience, the first few moments of a new Shift were a panicked struggle of dealing with an influx of senses that the mind couldn't quite reconcile with what it knew to be true. He'd started with the calmest of the animals for that reason, hoping that the otter's naturally laid-back attitude would help the man acclimatize. 

Instead the otter bucked, raking his rear claws down Evan's thighs in an effort to escape. Evan winced, grateful that its aim hadn't been a little higher, but he didn't really have a form of his own to deal with this. He'd certainly be helpless as a seal. Grabbing the otter in a bear hug, they rolled off the couch as the otter struggled. All he could do was hang on and hope that he didn't give the guy enough room to claw him again.

The otter thrashed in his grip, and Evan continued to talk calmly, even though it didn't seem to be helping. By the time the furry form went limp, Evan's arms and shoulders ached, and they were just getting started. Evan reasoned that it was the partial Shifts earlier that was making the process worse than usual. He'd hoped to break through to the guy while he was relatively less dangerous, but there seemed little chance of that now.

Evan braced himself, knowing his reprieve was temporary. The second quarter lit up, and Evan all-but smacked his own palm against his chest, Shifting in synch. His osprey was a bit smaller than the eagle, but Evan had the benefit of experience. He spread his wings, hoping to keep the other bird spooked and on the floor. The eagle keened, high-pitched and sounding mad with panic. 

Trying to fly, the eagle bashed his wing into the side of the couch. And that did it, Evan thought—add pain and the animal's instincts became stronger than the human's. Now he'd have to see it through with brute force. He ducked out of the way of a sharp beak aimed at his eyes, and tucked his wings, rolling to the side. Evan had the advantage of still thinking like a human, able to make the osprey do things no real bird would ever do. The eagle was, at least temporarily, truly an eagle. 

The other bird hopped to the couch, which gave him just enough height to become airborne. But the apartment was far too small to accommodate its six-foot wingspan, and he buffeted the open jars of ink to the floor before crashing into Evan's painting easel and hitting the floor. Evan flapped his own wings just enough to clear the couch and follow, landing on top of the eagle and locking talons with the other bird. Hoping he was timing it correctly, Evan held the Shifted man down for another few long seconds, then leaped into the air, turning sharply before flaring his wings and settling on the top edge of the television across the room.

A low growl came from behind the couch. Evan had nothing to counter this Shift; staying out of the way as an osprey made the most sense. He'd known that the next form would be a big cat, but the sheer size of the cougar that came into view boggled him. There was no way to calm this creature. The man hadn't responded to Evan's human speech as an otter, and every subsequent shift was only making things worse. 

Evan couldn't help but give a fierce cry of dismay when the cougar tore his couch cushions to shreds, foam flying across the open apartment. The cat turned at the sound, gouging its claws into the wood floor as he eyed Evan on his high perch. Evan had counted on the cat dismissing him as a threat, and he relaxed when the Shifted man padded through the kitchen and back out into the living room in a full circle. He continued to pace while Evan waited. This last bit would be the trickiest to time.

As soon as Evan saw the cougar's head droop, he brushed a feather tip against his breast and Shifted, diving down from the television as an osprey and landing as a wolf. He had to take advantage of the first few seconds of confusion; while the other wolf's eyes still looked glazed, Evan leaped.

The other guy had a size advantage that translated in the same proportion in this form. Evan clung with his jaws at the back of the neck, where the ruff ensured he wouldn't do any damage. But his opponent was under no obligation to avoid injury. He twisted, throwing Evan to the floor and turning on him with a snarl. Evan rolled to his feet and ducked under a snap of teeth, lifting with his shoulders and catching the other wolf on the chin. It stunned him long enough for Evan to throw his full weight against the other wolf and bowl him over. 

In an instant, Evan was on top of him, front paws planted firmly to either side of the wolf's belly and jaws around his neck. The other wolf whined, throwing his head back further and stretching his neck submissively, just as a real wolf would do if it lost a challenge. Still Evan didn't relax his grip, which was just shy of drawing blood. 

Finally the wolf relaxed, and Evan opened his jaws from around a throat that was suddenly human. Dipping his muzzle, Evan's chin grazed his chest and then he, too, was human again, bruised, sore, and kneeling naked over the other man.

“Hi,” Evan said as the guy opened his eyes. He smiled wide for good measure, wondering if the other man had any fight left in him. He braced his arms on the guy's shoulders just in case, knowing his mind was now making the adjustment from wolf back to human.

With a snarl, the man thrashed, and it was all Evan could do to hold him down and keep him from hurting himself. He began talking again, the same soothing reassurances he'd tried with the otter, and this time it seemed to get through.

Blue eyes blinking up at Evan, the man wet his lips and uttered a hoarse “What--?” as the last of his energy left him.

“You okay now?” Evan asked.

The man nodded mutely.

“Good.” Evan put a little weight behind the hold he still had on the guy's shoulders. “You're lucky you're not dead. That shitty Design almost got you drowned, and you're lucky I was around to fix it, because even if you hadn't drowned, you'd probably be lying in a heap of mismatched animal parts wishing you were dead.”

“No,” the guy protested weakly. “That Design was done by Luc Bastien for my family in 1678 as a reward for service to King Louis the Great.”

Evan snorted and sat back on his heels. “That so? Then whoever did your work was a complete idiot. I'd suggest hunting the guy down as that damn big cougar of yours and getting your money back.”

“Cougar?” The guy winced and tried to sit up. “Not a cougar, a sea otter. I wanted to study the kelp beds.”

Evan stood and offered a hand, pulling the guy to his feet. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck; he could only imagine how bruised and battered the other man was. Gesturing to his ruined couch, Evan said, “Cougar. And eagle, and wolf, _and_ sea otter.”

“That's impossible.” The man looked from the couch to Evan, expression suggesting that he hoped Evan was joking. Then his eyes turned inward and he added, “Wait—I do remember some of that. How is it possible?”

Evan sighed. “I'll explain the mechanics of it later. You need to sleep, and then eat, and then sleep some more.” He shook his head. “You should never have tried a full Shift on your own the first time. You'll have to do them all again, you know.” 

The man's legs buckled before he could finish a protest, and Evan just managed to catch him. “Come on. Bed time.”

“Uh.” The guy cleared his throat. “I'm naked. We're both naked.” Evan could see the progression of the guy's blush, from the back of his neck and down his shoulders. “And you're hurt.”

“Just some bad welts,” Evan told him, “And we've been naked together for most of the night. It's kinda too late to worry about it.” He steered them toward the bedroom, casting a longing glance toward the shower. He wasn't cold anymore, but his hair was crusty with salt water, and he smelled like the canal. But he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stand up for much longer, and the thought of sleep made him yawn so wide his ears popped. “I'm Evan Lorne, by the way.” He laughed. “I guess I should at least know your name after all of this.”

“I'm David,” the guy answered. “David Parrish.” He stumbled against Evan as they turned the corner into the bedroom. 

“Well, David Parrish, you certainly made my night interesting.” Evan practically dropped David onto his bed. He briefly considered digging around for a couple of pairs of pajama bottoms, but decided it wasn't worth it.

“Thank you,” David mumbled, pulling the covers down and burrowing under. By the time Evan reached the other side of the bed, David was asleep. Seconds later, Evan was wrapped up on his own side and falling into a deep slumber.

 

Evan awoke to the smell of frying bacon. He pried an eye open, tangled memories from the night before mixing with his most recent dream. Its origin became apparent when he tried to sit up; David was curled around him, sleeping soundly. Evan lifted David's arms away gently and got out of bed, knowing his new friend would probably sleep for several more hours yet.

Throwing on some sweat pants, Evan padded down the hall and peeked around the corner to the kitchen. John was cooking what appeared to be a full breakfast. 

“Just to be sure, you don't live here, right?” Evan asked, leaning against the door jamb.

John looked up and grinned. “I said I'd come by to check on things. Figured I might as well make breakfast.” He gestured to the table. “I drove along the north side of the canal and found a pile of clothes with a wallet and phone. Figured they had to be your friend's. How'd it go, anyway? By the look of the place, you had a pretty hairy night.”

“You have no idea.” He rubbed his head and grimaced when his fingers tangled in his hair. “Can you hit the pause button? I really need to shower.” Barely waiting for John's nod, Evan swung the corner to the bathroom. He felt a million times better when he was done, and headed back to the kitchen, stomach growling.

“Thanks for getting David's stuff.” John nodded his acknowledgment, and Evan grabbed a couple of plates and started coffee. More awake now after his shower, he noticed that John was wearing the same clothes as he'd had on the night before. “Did you stay up all night?”

“No,” John answered slowly. He kept his back turned, and Evan couldn't see his expression.

“But you haven't been home.” Evan tried to sound stern, even though he wanted to grin.

“Cam's apartment is just over on Market.” John flipped off the burner and turned. He shrugged and looked down at the floor. “I, uh. I know Cam was supposed to be your date...”

Evan debated giving him a hard time, but John had come back and made bacon and eggs, which was exactly the right kind of apology. “I'm happy for you. I was hoping that might happen.”

John gave him a relieved grin and shoveled the food onto the plates, then joined Evan at the table. “I told myself that last night, but afterward I felt a little guilty anyway. We really hit it off.” They ate in silence for a while, and when the coffee maker beeped John waved Evan to stay at the table. “So. David, huh? He's pretty cute.” He glanced at Evan and added, “It's not like you to pick up a stray.”

Evan waved his fork in denial while he finished chewing. “I couldn't just leave him there.” And fine—David was cute, but it's not like he'd known that when he dove in the water. He gratefully accepted a cup of coffee and added, “If I ever find the guy who did his work, I'm gonna beat the crap out of him.”

“That bad?”

Evan snorted. “I had to separate four different Designs.”

John whistled. “Well, I doubt David will be put off by the fact that you do illegal ID work, or that you've had so much work done yourself.” John smirked. “You've already seen each other naked, plus he scent-marked your dishwasher, so there's all the awkwardness out of the way in one go.” Evan groaned and swiveled in his chair, but John added, “I cleaned it up already. Smelled like a big cat?”

“Cougar,” Evan replied, biting into his toast and trying not to blush. He'd been so focused on the situation the night before he hadn't really thought about anything else. But thanks to John's insinuations, he was remembering every angle of David's body in sharp detail.

“It's about time you settled down with someone.” John said seriously, lifting his coffee cup as Evan laughed.

 

The cold snap lasted well into the next week, keeping the beaches more or less tourist-free. Evan let his toes curl into the sand and took a deep breath of the air that came in from the ocean. He turned to David and asked, “Ready?” 

David had slept for two days, and spent another recuperating at Evan's apartment. He'd had to return to his job at the aquarium after that, but they'd made plans to work on each of David's Shifts until he was comfortable with them. Evan was surprised to find that he was looking forward to it, and looking forward to spending more time with David, who was both fascinated by Evan's work and by the idea that he had four Shifts of his own to master.

“Ready as I'll ever be.” David pulled in a deep breath and reached out to take Evan's hand. They walked into the water, and Evan shivered as the cold numbed his bare legs. “You're sure it will work?”

“Absolutely,” Evan answered. He squeezed David's fingers and added, “Just remember to concentrate. I'll be with you the whole time.”

Letting go of each other's hands, they dove into the next wave. A moment later a seal head broke the surface and its body rolled in sheer joy. A sea otter popped up next to him and floated on its back. The two seemed to grin at each other, then dove at the same time to disappear under the waves.


End file.
